


heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved (running in circles, now look what you've done)

by princessoftheworlds



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Christmas, F/M, Gay Bucky Barnes, M/M, Oblivious Steve, Political Animals fusion, References to Drugs, Stucky Secret Santa 2016, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9076708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds
Summary: First Son James Buchanan Barnes has had a rough life from the moment his father was elected president and his family moved into the White House, but Steve Rogers has always been his constant. He didn't mean to fall in love with his best friend, especially now that Steve has a boyfriend.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oldmanrogers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmanrogers/gifts).



> Please read the tags! If they make you uncomfortable, please do not read the story, since everything tagged is central to the plot.
> 
> First of all, this is a Political Animals fusion, but you don't have to have watched the show to understand this.
> 
> What you do need to know is this:
> 
> Bucky is the son of President George Barnes. In 2010, his mother Winnie runs for president and loses and becomes Secretary of State instead but divorces George who has cheated on her many times in the past. In 2011, Bucky begins an affair with married, conservative Congressman Brock Rumlow from Ohio and falls in love with him. Around Christmastime, VP Alexander Pierce, from the same party as Winnie, discovers the affair and blackmails Rumlow who is from an opposing party to vote for a bill that Pierce has sponsored by threatening to out him. Winnie confronts Bucky who refuses to break it off with Rumlow, but Winnie refuses to help Bucky. Distraught, Rumlow lashes out at Bucky who devastatingly tries to commit suicide but is found by Steve. In 2012, Bucky OD's, helping to bring his family back together.
> 
> Happy Holidays!

**Christmas Eve, 2011**

 

_Steve sits in Peggy’s favorite French restaurant, the small box burning a hole in the pocket of his slacks, as the brunette rants animatedly about a client at SHIELD, the security agency she founded and that they both work at._

 

_She appears just as beautiful as the day he first met her, dark eyes flashing with faint irritation and amusement, stray wisps of hair escaping the high ponytail her hair has been pulled up in, and Steve knows that he loves her with all his heart, and he also knows that Peggy will adore the ring he picked out with Angie's help._

 

_It sits in the box: a small diamond set in a single, untarnished band of silver that is elegant but also reminiscent of simpler times._

 

_Still, there is something wrong about this, a subtle whispering in the back of Steve’s head telling him that the time isn’t right._

 

_The restaurant is beginning to become a little stuffy, and Steve’s senses, honed by six years in the army, are becoming edgy. He tugs at his tie, attempting to loosen the knot and lessen his discomfort, knowing that a red flush must be rising on his fair Irish skin. Quickly, he excuses himself from the table, smiling tightly at Peggy who understands his unease, and ducks outside into the alley behind the restaurant._

 

_The instant the brisk air hits his face, cooling his skin, Steve relaxes and leans against the alley wall to catch his breath._

 

_He pulls his phone out from his coat pocket and powers it back on. Almost immediately, a notification pops up on the homescreen._

 

12 Missed Calls from **Bucky**

 

Voicemail from **Bucky**

 

_Steve straightens in alarm, his heart beginning to pound._

 

Why has Bucky called him so many times? Why has Bucky called him at all?

 

_Steve had talked to him over the phone just this morning, and the former First Son had sounded healthier than he had in months. He was supposed to be spending his Christmas with his nana, Becca, Becca’s fiancé Michael, Winnie, and perhaps even George._

 

_In the last five months, Steve and Bucky’s friendship has been at the most distant it has ever been in over twenty years, except during Steve’s stint in the army, but Bucky has found something good, something that makes him happy and keeps him away from the cocaine, and though Steve doesn’t know what or who it is, but he is proud of Bucky for finding this happiness._

 

_With wary fingers, Steve unlocks his phone and selects Bucky’s voicemail, holding his phone tight to his ear, the device almost slippery in Steve’s clammy hand._

 

_“Steve, Stevie, it’s all fucked up,” comes Bucky’s voice, raw, devastated, pitched so low that he is almost inaudible._

 

_His voice is wrecked in a way that Steve hasn’t heard since the last time Bucky nearly OD'd several years ago or Steve was in the hospital, almost defeated by pneumonia, when he was twelve and Bucky was thirteen._

 

_“Everything’s fucked up,” Bucky slurs, likely the effect of consuming more than a single glass of scotch._

 

_A shiver runs through Steve’s body at Bucky’s admission, starting from his shoulder and rolling down his spine. Despite his uncertainty about what exactly Bucky is referring to as “fucked up,” there is a sense of foreboding in Steve’s gut, and Steve’s instincts have never guided him wrong._

 

_Bucky continues on, “I know that you’re with Pegs, and I know you love her…” His speech dissolves into incomprehensible slurring, but Steve catches the end, “...you deserve some good in your life, and we both both know that good isn’t me._

 

_“I’m a fucked-up piece of shit, and everyone has wasted their time on me, you, Becca, Nana, Ma, even Dad. I thought I found something good…” Again, his mumblings become indecipherable. “... called me a pathetic American punchline.”_

 

_Bucky’s voice cracks with weighted emotion, and Steve can pinpoint the exact moment, based on Bucky’s hitch of breath, that the other man begins to sob._

 

_Heart in his stomach, Steve waits with bated breath for the message to end, barely hearing Bucky’s next words._

 

_“Stevie, I love you. I hope you are-”_

 

_The voicemail cuts off abruptly, and Steve swears in combined shock and frustration. He nearly drops his phone in his haste to dial Bucky’s number back and waits but the call goes straight to Bucky’s voicemail._

 

_Steve checks the time on the voicemail only to find that it is dated to half an hour previous. His hands are trembling in a way they haven’t since before he joined the army._

 

_Fear jolts him into action, and he races back into the restaurant, startling the other partons as he passes, and arrives at his table with Peggy._

 

_She assesses his breathless condition with a single glance, her face passing through a myriad of shock, surprise, and finally concern. “What happened, darling? What’s got you in such a state?”_

 

_“Bucky,” Steve gasps out. “He left me a voicemail. Fuck, Pegs, something’s wrong. I’m so sorry; I know we planned this dinner weeks ago, but I need-”_

 

_Peggy’s cheeks have colored in horror. “Steven Grant Rogers!” she orders, stunning Steve into silence. “Don’t waste your breath in unnecessary explanation. James needs you. I can wait; go!”_

 

_With an uneasy but thankful smile, Steve pecks Peggy on the lips before sprinting to his car._

 

_He drives recklessly, tearing through the streets of DC, thankful that it is Christmas Eve and the streets are almost completely deserted. The tires of his car screech against the asphalt as his car comes to a sudden halt before the Secretary of State’s brownstone, Steve barely remembering to lock his car before barging into the brownstone._

 

_Using his security pass, Steve manages to bypass the safety measure and shoves past the Secret Service booth, knowing it is deserted because of the holiday and because no one is meant to be at home._

 

_The entire family is supposed to at some White House Christmas gala that, despite being the former Secretary of Defense’s son, Steve has not been invited to._

 

_Steve storms into the sitting room, predictably finding no one. He glances around, unsure of where Bucky could be, until a sudden beeping causes him to whirl around, hand reaching for a sidearm no longer holstered along his thigh in practiced routine._

_The noise came from the carbon monoxide detector, stationed high on the nearest wall, beeping again and blinking with a bright red light._

 

_Immediately, Steve knows where Bucky is._

 

_Steve finds the garage door left slightly open and slips through, his feet pounding on the concrete steps with urgency, the sound echoing loudly in the empty garage._

 

_The car is revealed the moment Steve slams on the garage’s lights, its own lights having long turned off, the windows sealed tightly._

 

_With the sudden brightness, Steve’s gaze narrows down to the limp form seated in the driver’s seat._

 

_With his head lolling back against the headrest and his face relaxed and free of emotion, James Buchanan Barnes could simply be dozing, but he isn’t._

 

_The series of events from there are slightly blurred, but Steve finds himself kneeling on the ground, cradling Bucky’s weightless body in his arms, the car door yanked ajar besides him._

 

_His hand automatically reaches for Bucky’s wrist, fingers pressing against the inner skin. Steve waits with bated breath, pleading silently to any being that exists above and to Bucky’s fighting spirit, to the fourteen-year-old boy with the cocky grin that has slipped away and the confident eyes that have turned sad._

 

_There is one moment, and then another, and, finally, Steve feels a pulse below his fingers._

XX

 

**October, 2016**

 

The difference in Steve is spotted by Bucky the moment Steve steps back through the front door and into the DC penthouse apartment he shared with Bucky.

 

Steve’s dressed in sweats that look comfortable but are decent enough to go out in public in and a t-shirt, sunshine-blond hair neat but still slightly disarrayed in a way that indicates to Bucky that Steve has been been running his hand through his hair.

 

But, most importantly, Steve is grinning ear-to-ear and blushing so hard, the pink flush clearly visible against his fair Irish skin. His cornflower blue eyes are bright and exuberant. Steve is nearly glowing, happy in a way he hasn’t been since his engagement with Peggy.

 

Steve is radiating sunshine, and he’s so bright that it hurts Bucky’s eyes to goddamn look at him, but Bucky still can’t tear his eyes away from his best friend, a smile naturally coming to his own face as warmth spread through his body.

 

“Where were you?” Bucky asks curiously, finally mustering the courage and strength to speak, from his position curled up on the dove-grey armchair facing the door.

 

“Went to the store. We were out of milk,” Steve says in explanation, lifting his arm to shows Bucky the milk jug he hadn’t noticed before.

 

“Okay.” Bucky nods and tugs his blanket closer over his body before daring to ask the question that is actually chewing at him. “What’s got you so happy?”

 

If possible, Steve smiles even more brightly. “I met someone,” he begins, and Bucky’s heart plummets. “I ran into him on the sidewalk and made him drop all his eggs. I kept apologizing, and he kept saying that it was fine, but it was my fault. I wasn’t looking. So I ran back inside and bought him exactly what he dropped. Then he asked me out on a date.”

 

The warmth suddenly disappears from his body, and Bucky shivers. Something burning-hot and ugly unfurls in the pit of his stomach.

 

“His name is Pietro,” Steve continues. “He’s originally from Sokovia, but he and his twin sister Wanda resettled here in last year after their dad got a divorce.”

 

The rest of Steve’s words wash over Bucky, but he is trapped in his own bubble of concentration as he comes to a conclusion about his sudden reaction to the source of Steve’s happiness.

 

_I’m jealous of a man Steve met on the street._

 

Then.

 

_I’m in love with my best friend._

XX

 

“Shit!” Bucky groans dramatically, head slumped into the cradle of his arms, as he sits at Sam’s dining table. “Shit! Shit! Fuck! Shit! I’m in love with Steve.”

 

Sam snorts good-naturedly from behind his glass of iced tea. “Yeah. And, that’s a problem...how exactly?”

 

“Oh, shut up,” Bucky mumbles into his arms. He raises his head to glare at Sam before sitting up against his chair. “How did this even happen?”

 

“Man, it happens to everyone,” Sam remarks. “You’ve known Steve for how long now? Twenty, twenty-one years.”

 

“Twenty-seven,” Bucky corrects him distractedly. “Twenty-seven years. We met in Brooklyn when Steve was six and I was seven.”

 

“See!” Sam says triumphantly as Bucky startles. “You’ve known him for most of your life; I bet you can’t even remember what it was like before you met Steve.”

 

Bucky nods compulsively, because, Sam is right, of course. “But,” Bucky begins to say in protest.

 

Sam holds out a hand, motioning for Bucky to stop talking. Instead, he continues, “Everyone who knows you knows how much Steve means to you. And how much you mean to Steve. He’s always been a part of your life.”

 

“I guess…” Bucky replies defeatedly.

 

“Just tell me something.” Sam drains his glass and sets it besides him on the table. “Who are you without Steve Rogers in your life?”

 

Bucky opens his mouth to respond. He stops. He closes his mouth. Thinks back to the six years he spent while Steve was overseas, when Bucky was always perpetually high, snorting cocaine almost everywhere until he could almost taste the powder in the back of his throat, the endless string of men, the occasional girl, getting wasted in nightclubs every night. Remembers that no matter how high he was, his body paralyzed with euphoria, it still always felt like a part of him was missing, empty, and could never be filled no matter how many drugs he took or people he slept with.

 

Bucky remembers the occasional weeks he managed to stay sober when Peggy and Steve were dating and how alone and distant he felt from everyone. He remembers how, when he awoke in the hospital bed, devastated that he had failed, and found Steve standing above him, face broken with relief.

 

How Steve had taken care of him after the overdose. Had moved in with Bucky. Had stopped drinking alcohol so Bucky wouldn’t be tempted. Had endured sleepless nights so Bucky could play the piano from dawn to dusk to curb the pains of withdrawal.

 

Had sacrificed so much despite Bucky not proving his worth.

 

Bucky shudder.

 

_Who is he without Steve Rogers in his life?_

 

“A mess,” Bucky admits hoarsely.

 

“There you have,” Sam tells him. “You’re in love with Steve. Great. How did you react when he told you about the date?”

 

Groaning, Bucky rakes a hand through his hair, shoving it into a disarray. “I panicked. I mumbled an excuse, said that I forgot that I had to meet you for lunch, and ran straight here.”

 

“Fuck…” Sam says, wincing like Bucky has embarrassed him. “You’ve got problems, Barnes.”

 

“I know!” Bucky moans before burrowing his face back into the safety of his arms.

XX

 

The next Saturday, Bucky is seated at in front of his baby grand, fingers trailing aimlessly over the keys, occasionally playing a series of notes before halting, when Steve wanders into the living room.

 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says, stopping next to the piano. Wordlessly, Bucky slides across the piano bench to make room for Steve who sits down next to him.

 

“Isn’t your date today?” Bucky asks with forced calm as his stomach roils mercilessly. “What are you doing here?”

 

At the mention of his date, Steve smiles brightly and begins to blushing in a way that Bucky finds adorable and makes him want to press kisses into Steve’s skin. “Yeah…” he says hesitantly.

 

“And…” Bucky prompts, fighting to hide his scowl, because, otherwise, Steve will catch on to Bucky’s displeasure.

 

“I don’t know what to wear,” Steve admits, throwing his hands up in frustration. He turns his famed puppy-dog eyes at Bucky and pleads, “Can you help me?”

 

“You’re a grown-ass man, Steven Grant Rogers.” Bucky laughs despite his disgruntled heart. “You can pick your own clothes. Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I got the fashion gene.”

 

Steve’s pout morphs into a grin. “We both know that that’s a lie, James Buchanan Barnes. It’s just that I haven’t ever really dated since Peggy and I broke up; I’m inexperienced. Now, help me.” He stands and begins to walk to his room, Bucky trailing closely behind.

 

“Where are you two going?”

 

“Pietro is taking me to dinner and then he’s planned something. He won’t tell me where, though. He just told me to dress casually,” Steve says, ducking into his room and opening up his closet door.

 

Personally, Bucky finds that boring. Steve and Bucky already know everything about each other. If Bucky was planning their first date, he would borrow an Air Force One plane to fly him and Steve to New York so that they could spend the day wandering Brooklyn.

 

“Right,” Bucky says as he gets straight to work.

 

Ten minutes later, he’s pushing Steve, dressed in dark jeans that hug his ass almost indecently (Bucky tries not to oogle), a brown leather jacket that is soft and worn over a navy cotton Henley, and nice leather boots, out the front door.

 

“Don’t wait up for me, Ma,” Steve tells him sarcastically, narrowly avoiding Bucky’s hand ruffling his hair.

 

Steve comes back late in the night, smiling widely and clutching flowers, but Bucky pushes past him, mumbling something about a headache and heading to bed.

XX

 

Days turn into weeks, and eventually two months pass.

 

Steve keeps going on dates with Pietro, always coming back with a different type of flowers and smiling. If they ever have sex, Steve has the decency to stay over at Pietro’s.

 

Bucky has avoided meeting the man in question so far, but each time he makes his excuse, Steve’s smile strains even more.

 

Still, Bucky can’t avoid the man somehow sneaking into his life with Steve. Bouquets of flowers or tubes of paint from him will show up at their apartment or SHIELD, the security agency Steve, Sam, Natasha, and half their friend circle work at. Steve is always mentioning Pietro when he talks to Bucky, and Bucky is having a harder time keeping his emotions and jealousy in check.

 

The final straw comes when Steve announces that Pietro and his sister Wanda will be joining Bucky and Steve’s friends for their Fourth Annual Friendsgiving, an event that Bucky looks forward to each year.

 

“What?” Bucky gapes at Steve in dismay, mind still processing Steve’s last statement.

 

“Yeah. Pietro and Wanda have never experienced Thanksgiving, and their family is back in Sokovia. I invited them for Friendsgiving. I’ve already asked Tony, Nat, Sam, and Peggy. Everyone is okay with it.” Steve frowns. “You don’t have a problem with it, do you? Because I can tell Pietro no.”

 

Bucky feels a sudden surge of irritation at Steve. “I’m fine,” he snaps. “I’m not fragile. Having dinner with your boyfriend and his sister won’t make me uncomfortable. I won’t slip up and become an addict again!”

 

Steve stiffens in surprise, his expression becoming horrified, and Bucky can tell that Steve is regretting phrasing his question the way he did. “I don’t think that, Buck!” Steve says hurriedly, rushing to assure Bucky. “It’s just...you’ve been so distracted and acting differently in the last few months. I know you’re under stress from the VA and the LGBTQ center and the piano lessons. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

 

Bucky sighs, feeling his anger subside and knowing that Steve means well. “It’s fine, Stevie. I’m glad that you’re happy. I really have no problem with Pietro and Wanda joining Friendsgiving.”

 

“Good,” Steve says with satisfaction. He pauses before saying wistfully, “I hope you find someone to make you happy soon.”

 

At that statement, Bucky snorts bitterly. They both know and remember the true reason behind Bucky’s suicide attempt. He stands up, patting Steve on the shoulder. “I don’t need anyone, punk. I’ve got you.”

 

Bucky leaves the room, not seeing Steve’s guilt-stricken expression or pining, pained eyes.

XX

 

Finally, the night of Friendsgiving arrives, and Bucky is still not mentally or emotionally prepared to meet Pietro.

 

But, as his mother Winnie says, _It’s always important to look your best when you feel your worst_ , and so Bucky has cleaned up nicely in a black button-down and blue jeans, hair styled with the slightest bit of product.

 

He is in the kitchen of their apartment, watching Natasha and Sam, the only two of their friends guaranteed not to give the rest food poisoning with their cooking, finish preparing the meal. Peggy and her maybe-girlfriend Angie are setting the table; Tony is on drinks, non-alcoholic since none of them drink due to various reason. Clint and Steve have been banned from the kitchen so they sit in the living room, chatting with Daisy.

 

They are all Bucky’s second family; he met in different places, different ways, at various stages of his life, but they all support each other. For some of them, this is their only family.

 

Steve’s ma and pa are both dead now. So, for Steve, Bucky and their friends are his only family.

 

Sam, Angie, and Peggy are the only ones with normal families. Tony dislikes family dinner with his divorced billionaire parents and is practically estranged from them. Clint grew up in foster care and later the circus before joining the army. Natasha was disowned when she refused to be married off at age seventeen by her Bolshoi ballerina mother and Russian businessman father and ran away, coming to the United States. Daisy, the youngest of their friends, almost like a young sister to Peggy and Natasha, was also disowned by her mother, a Chinese diplomat, and her father, a wealthy doctor, when she ran away at age sixteen at the time of their divorce.

 

But, nothing beats the fucked-up background like being a gay, formerly-addicted former but still current First Son of an ex-president and a current president.

 

Bucky should win awards for what he’s experienced. No, even better. Someone should make a biopic of his life and exploit his broken past for money; it’s not like that’ll be any different from the first couple decades of his life.

 

The doorbell rings, and Steve rushes to the door. Into the apartment steps a man and woman several years younger than Bucky and clearly related. They both have dark eyes and tan skin, but the woman, dressed in a neat red sweater dress, has dark hair that is braided back, and all Bucky can see of the man is silvery-blond hair before he’s tugged by Steve into a very enthusiastic kiss.

 

Bucky’s head whips to the side as he glances away as quickly as he possibly can, something quivering with almost painful motion in his heart. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Sam and Natasha, who is already naturally aware of the situation and has likely been informed by Sam, shoot him knowing glances.

 

When Steve finally releases the man Bucky has assumed is Pietro, he drags both him and his sister over to Bucky.

 

“Buck,” Steve says, resting a heavy hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “This is Wanda.”

 

Politely, Bucky smiles. “Nice to meet you, Wanda. I’m Bucky.”

 

“It’s wonderful to meet you.” Wanda nods in greeting, her vowels tinged with a Sokovian accent.

 

After Wanda drifts away towards Peggy and Angie, Steve pulls Pietro in front of Bucky, wrapping a comfortable hand around his waist.

 

Watching Steve pull Pietro closer and lean into the other man with fond comfortableness, Bucky tastes something bitter in the back of his throat. He quickly swallows it down and gets his first good look at Pietro.

 

Steve’s boyfriend is incredibly handsome, and Bucky can’t fault Steve for that. Pietro’s hair is neatly-gelled back, highlighting his high cheekbones and gaunt features. Pietro is clearly some kind of athlete, runner, swimmer, or dancer, as evident by his slight, skinny but still well-built body, and is dressed well in a dark sweater and jeans.

 

“Hello,” Pietro says to Bucky in an accent that is lighter than his sister’s and makes his words lilt attractively. “I am assuming that you are Bucky. I am Pietro. Steve has told me so much about you.”

 

At least Pietro has the decency to pretend to not recognize Bucky as soon as he walked through the door; Bucky has to respect him for that.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Bucky tells him gruffly, trying his hardest to mask his hostility towards the other man.

 

He must succeed, because Pietro smiles at him, the expression genuine and heartfelt.

 

“I’ve mentioned to Pietro-” Steve begins to say.

 

“Sorry, Stevie. I think Sam needs my help in the kitchen.” Bucky cuts Steve off, watching his best friend’s expression falter and become a frown.

 

“Oh, okay.” Steve’s brows furrow, and he sighs but steps aside to allow Bucky room to move to the kitchen.

 

“You should give Pietro a chance,” Sam says distractedly as he uses a sifter to put a final flourish of powdered sugar on a large apple pie that is to sit in the refrigerator until after the meal is over. “He’s a decent guy.”

 

“I respect that Steve’s dating him, but just because Steve sings his praises doesn’t mean that I am obligated to like him.” With slight irritation, stemming from Sam’s statement, Bucky mashes the potatoes that he’s supposed to be whipping.

 

“Someone’s jealous,” Natasha singsongs, smirking as she carries the pre-prepared turkey through the kitchen and to the table.

 

“Fuck off,” Bucky tells her retreating back.

 

Sam shakes his head and laughs.

 

When they all sit down at the table whose sole purpose seems to be for Friendsgiving and ends up accumulating dust in Steve and Bucky’s apartment for the other 364 days, Bucky tries not glower from where he’s seated between Peggy and Daisy. Pietro is sitting next to Steve on the far side of the table, in Bucky’s usual seat.

 

Daisy digs an elbow into his side while Bucky leans over to scoop some of Sam’s home-made green bean casserole onto his plate.

 

“What?” Bucky hisses as he grabs at his aching ribs.

 

“Quit pining!” she whispers rapidly into his ear.

 

“I’m not pining,” he growls back at her. When she raises a perfectly-arched eyebrow in disbelief, Bucky sighs in frustration, insisting,“I’m not.”

 

“You were looking at Steve the same way Clint looks at pizza,” Daisy states dryly. When Clint turns his head to glance at them from across the table, having heard her say his name, she smiles politely at him and lowers her voice. “I’m not an idiot, Buck.”

 

Bucky takes a gander, gazing into her clever eyes and seeing only genuinity and slight concern. “Fine,” he admits quietly. “I’m pining.”

 

“Hah!” Daisy takes a triumphant swig of her apple cider, the only other drink besides various types of soda available at their non-alcoholic Friendsgiving.

 

Bucky stabs at his turkey grumpily, everyone else too preoccupied with their conversations to notice the excessive force he’s using to slice the meat. When he raises his head, he catches Steve’s eye. Steve smiles at him, and the world seems to brighten considerably as something flutters like butterflies in his stomach.

 

Then Steve nudges Pietro and steals a peck from his lips when the Sokovian turns to face him.

 

A quick scowl flits across Bucky’s face but is gone before anyone can comment on it.

 

“Buck,” Steve calls, and Bucky jerks his attention back to his best friend.

 

“Yes, Stevie,” he replies, acting normally as he know Steve would expect him to.

 

“Pietro was just-”

 

“Steve,” Pietro interrupts the blond, and Bucky wants to yell, since no one interrupts Steve, no one did even when he was a scrawny shrimp of a boy and went off on tangents about injustices certain communities faced, but Steve simply smiles at his boyfriend. “I can talk for myself.”

 

“I know,” Steve says and leans in for another short kiss.

 

Bucky wants to puke.

 

The rest of them coo with Tony smirking suggestively, because Steve hasn’t dated anyone in a very long time, and they aren’t used to him being so publicly affectionate, but Daisy, Natasha, Sam, and even Peggy shoot Bucky knowing yet worried glances.

 

Is he really that obvious with his pining?

 

“Bucky,” Pietro begins, and Bucky nearly bristles at the intimate use of his name. Only his friends and family call him that; the rest of the world knows him as James. “Steve told me that you play the piano.”

 

He doesn’t want to sound vain, but saying he “plays the piano” is like saying that his mother is just another politician.

 

“Yeah. I do.” He nods gruffly.

 

“That’s amazing,” Wanda chimes in from besides Pietro.

 

“How long have you been playing?” Pietro asks.

 

“Since I was five.” Bucky picks absentmindedly at his over-mashed potatoes. “My parents always hired the best tutors for me and my sister. I had a couple world-famous pianists for teachers.” He shrugs, aware that he sounds like every bit of the spoiled prince he was raised as. “Perks of having well-known parents.”

 

“I see.” Pietro laces his hand that lies on the dining table with Steve’s. “Is your family quite wealthy?”

 

Someone snorts, likely Tony.

 

Apparently, the reason Pietro pretended not to recognize Bucky was, because he actually did not recognize Bucky.

 

“Sure,” Bucky drawls vaguely.

 

“So you never considered a career in an orchestra? Steve has mentioned that you started teaching lessons a few years ago.”

 

There is a tight, almost painful, knot in his chest, and Bucky knows the perfect way to release the tension.

 

“I’m sure I considered it several times in the past, but the idea just didn’t stick between the years I spent high and fucked-up out of my mind and the recovery that came with the successful stint in rehab,” he says.

 

His friends, used to his occasional bluntness and lack of a word-to-mouth filter, shake their heads. Steve’s forehead is wrinkled but looks slightly proud, because it appears that the long months that they spent on desensitizing Bucky to his past are finally paying off. Wanda appears slightly stunned, uncertain of how to react.

 

But Pietro.

 

Pietro smiles gently at him and tells him earnestly, “I am sorry.”

 

The tension in Bucky’s chest has dissipated, and, instead, there is a lump in his throat that he cannot swallow, and he has to look away, unable to meet Pietro’s eyes.

 

Bucky hates Pietro; he hates how Steve chose this man that is almost artificially genuine and kind and is the one person who just doesn’t know Bucky as the colossal fuck-up that he is publically acknowledged to be. He hates how Steve is happier with Pietro in a way that he wasn’t with Bucky for four years.

 

But Steve deserves someone like Pietro, not someone like Bucky, and so Bucky can’t fault him for that.

 

He’s glad that Steve has Pietro, and that realization chills his body and his heart.

 

Still, when the meal is over, and pie has been eaten, and everyone has unwound in the living room, Bucky asks, “Where’s Steve?”

 

The blond man in question is missing, along with Pietro.

 

“He’s staying with Pietro. They left when you were in the kitchen. Steve didn’t want to bother you,” Clint tells him.

 

“Oh.” Bucky’s hands curl into fists, but only Sam notices.

 

“What about you, Wanda?” Angie asks from where she’s curled up under Peggy’s arm on the sofa. “Where are you to go?”

 

“I’ll take an Uber to my boyfriend Victor’s apartment,” Wanda says.

 

Suddenly, Sam rises to his feet. “I think we have more pie. Who wants?”

 

“Oh, me!” Daisy waves an energetic hand in the air.

 

The rest of the group agrees with a unified murmur.

 

“I need an extra hand. Come with me to the kitchen, Barnes,” Sam orders, Bucky following behind in confusion.

 

In the kitchen, Sam corners Bucky. “In all actuality, you and Steve need to spend some time apart. Give each other a break; allow Steve to bring Pietro over here.”

 

“I know.” Bucky sighs. “I know.”

XX

 

“You’re what?” Steve gapes at him, eyes wide and bewildered.

 

“I’m moving out,” Bucky repeats and rolls his eyes when Steve’s face crumples, “and moving into my mom’s.”

 

“But, you can’t!” Steve whines. “I’m sorry; I don’t know what I did but don’t leave because of me.”

 

“It’s not you, Stevie,” Bucky says, countering Steve before he can even open his mouth, “nor is it Pietro. It actually has nothing to do with you, punk.”

 

He’s only telling Steve a half-truth after all; why does he feel guilty?

 

“Jerk.” Steve grins before it falters. “Why, then?”

 

“It’s only temporary. Until New Year’s. Things get busy around this time of year, and Mom needs someone to hold down fort with Nana, with Mom busy in office, Dad back in North Carolina, and Becca not coming in until Christmas. She and Michael are taking a well-deserved break in the Bahamas, one they haven’t had since Mom got elected and Becca became Chief of Staff.” Bucky explains. “For morale.”

 

“Fine.” Steve is still scowling, though. “Just let me know before you know.”

 

Bucky doesn’t. He waits the next day until Steve is at Pietro’s and then grabs a simple duffel bag packed with some clothes, his toiletries, and his laptop and its charger.

 

He then calls a towncar to take him to the Barnes household.

XX

 

“So, where’s Steve?” questions Marge Barnes, Bucky’s nana, as she, Bucky, and Becca hang ornaments on the decent-sized Christmas tree in the sitting room of the Barnes household. “Haven’t seen enough of that fine ass recently.”

 

Becca snorts.

 

“Nana,” Bucky says in protest, but he’s smiling too. He’s only been at home for a few days, and Becca surprisingly returned just in time for Thanksgiving, which was yesterday, but Bucky has missed his twin and his Nana and her antics. “He’s at home.”

 

“Finally scare him off, did you?” Becca teases, grabbing a rather-ugly crystal ornament that some old staffer had gotten their mother and hanging it around the back of the tree.

 

Winnie Barnes may be willing to have the tree professionally-decorated, but Bucky, Becca, and Marge prefer to do it themselves.

 

“Shut up.” Bucky grins even more. “Don’t you have work to do?”

 

“Nah.” Becca hums while she drapes some tinsel across the tree. “Mom’s forced me to take today off; she says that the other staffers can rally together for just one more day when I’m not there.” She smirks mischievously at Bucky. “Where is Steve?”

 

 “He’s at home.” Sadly, he can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice or scowl off his face when he says, “Probably with his boyfriend.”

 

“Missing him?” Marge remarks coyly. “Well, the boy has catered around your sorry ass for years; he deserves a break.”

 

He may not have been able to keep the hurt and pining off his face completely, because Becca’s eyes widen considerably, and she groans. “Oh, fuck,” she says with understanding, “I need a drink.”

 

“Get me one too,” Marge orders as Becca wanders to the kitchen and pulls out the Jack Daniels bottle she placed there last night, but Marge isn’t serious; she knows Becca will refuse her.

 

Bucky’s vice used to be drugs, Marge’s used to be alcohol, but they are both on the mend now.

 

Becca pours two fingers of the liquor into a crystal glass. “Oh, shit. Bucky, why?”

 

“What did the boy do?” Marge asks as she and Bucky join Becca in the kitchen.

 

“It wasn’t by choice,” Bucky whines, leaning against the refrigerator so that his head is supported by the gleaming stainless steel. “It just happened.”

 

“What,” Marge repeats, the blue-grey eyes that both Bucky and Becca have inherited narrowing with curiosity, “happened?”

 

“Nana,” Becca begins slowly, very slowly, all while watching Bucky for his reactions, “he’s in love with him.”

 

“Who’s in love with who?” Winnie asks absentmindedly as she strolls past the kitchen, eyes glued to her phone, likely on the way to her office.

 

“Bucky,” Becca replies carefully, “with Steve.”

 

Winnie stops in her path, clever eyes darting up from her phone and landing on Bucky. “Oh, Jamie,” she breathes sadly. “What did you do that for, you stupid boy?” She drops her phone in the pocket of her slacks and rush to Bucky, gathering him into her arms.

 

Though he almost towers over Winnie, Bucky presses his head into her neck, relishing in the warmth and comfort of his mother’s arms. “Mama.” His eyes begins to fill with tears, his heart aching. “It wasn’t by choice,” he repeats, his voice cracking. “It just happened.”

 

“Jamie.” She sighs, hesitating slightly before she speaks again. “When?”

 

“A few months ago,” Bucky whispers softly. “He was just happy like I hadn’t seen him for years, almost since Peggy, but it was because he had met someone, and I realized I hated it. I hated that I wasn’t the reason he was that happy, and I realized I loved him.”

 

“It’s okay.” Becca’s there, slowly rubbing his back. “Love is suppose to hurt, Bucky-bear; it’s not worth it if it doesn’t. You remember what happened with me and Michael.”

 

Bucky knows that love hurts; he’s experienced it.

 

“Be careful,” Winnie tells him. “Open your heart to him but be cautious.”

 

It may sound like a strange exchange to Becca and Marge, but only Steve, Winnie, George, and Bucky know the truth behind Bucky’s attempted suicide. They all remember what happened the last time Bucky fell in love and how its rejection broke him.

 

“Okay, Mama.”

 

He remains wrapped in the embrace that his family provides, the comfort keeping the memories that threaten to haunt him at bay.

XX

 

It is only by pure accident that Bucky gets a glimpse at the guest list for the Third Annual White Christmas Gala that the White House holds every year and finds Steve’s name with a plus-one for Pietro Maximoff.

 

Steve and Bucky are always invited every year, Bucky as the First Son and Steve as the son of former Secretary of Defense Rogers and as one of the founders of SHIELD, one of the most elite security agencies in the country, but they always decline. Steve claims that he hates the galas, but Bucky knows that the real reason is to keep Bucky away from the scenes that always drove him to the drugs.

 

But, apparently, Steve has decided to take Pietro this year and not tell Bucky, and that makes rage boil up inside Bucky.

 

He tells himself that he doesn’t care; he reassures himself.

 

Still, when the night of the gala arrives, and Marge has left to attend (since Winnie and Becca and Michael live in the White House mostly), Bucky finds himself back in his apartment, empty now that Steve is at the gala.

 

He is searching through the various suits he owns for piano recitals and other events when he finds one that his mother had had tailored for him for his birthday this year.

 

Bucky smirks triumphantly, his heart hardening.

 

He may have sworn off the drugs and drinking and nightclubs, but it has been a good number of months since Bucky has had sex, and he knows that he’ll find a willing partner at the gala.

XX

 

By the time Bucky arrives, he can bypass the crowd and the few authorized press members and heads straight into the East Room.

 

He runs straight into Peggy and Daisy.

 

“James?” Peggy asks in surprise. She’s even more gorgeous tonight, wearing a red strapless gown that flows to the ground, her hair pulled back and in place with her trademark red lip. “Does Steve know you’re here?”

 

“Steve’s not my keeper,” Bucky grumbles but kisses Peggy’s cheek before pulling Daisy into a hug and kissing her forehead. “You’re both gorgeous. What are you even doing here, Daisy? Who let this rabble in?”

 

Daisy laughs warmly. She’s in a rose-gold silk gown, dark hair straightened and lightened a shade for the occasion. “I’d tell you that you look hot, but that’s Steve’s job.”

 

“Angie couldn’t make it,” Peggy explains, “and Daisy had nothing to do tonight, so she’s my plus-one.”

 

“Wait!” Daisy cries, peering past Bucky’s shoulder, “is that Becca? She looks stunning. I gotta talk to her.”

 

“Oh,” Bucky says. “I’m gonna head in the opposite direction. Try to keep a low profile from all the press, you know.”

 

“Check in with Steve once,” Peggy instructs him, “I’ll keep Daisy from mauling your sister.” She moves to follow Daisy who is already heading towards Bucky’s sister.

 

“Yes, ma’am.” Bucky gives her a lopsided salute, but Peggy rolls her eyes and leaves, laughing.

 

Bucky moves through the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of Steve and Pietro, but is mostly unsuccessful. Several times, he’s cornered by politicians and their wives who tell Bucky that he’s glowing or he looks well, but most of them are simply hoping to gain his mother’s favor.

 

“Jamie-boy,” a loud voice crows near his ear.

 

Bucky whips around.

 

“Dad?” he cries in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Your mama asked me to come,” George tells his only son, words tinged with a Southern accent that endears him to most people he meets and that Bucky can sometimes imitate. “What about you? She never told me you were coming.”

 

George Barnes is a charming man in his mid-sixties with classic Hollywood good looks that neither Bucky nor Becca inherited. Instead, the twins received their mother’s faintly Eastern European features and dark hair. Bucky does have his father’s easy smile and dimpled chin, though.

 

“She didn’t know,” Bucky responds. “Nor did I until a few hours ago.”

 

George laughs, a booming sound that attracts a bit of attention. “It’s been a while, Jamie. How are you?” He scans Bucky with his jade-green eyes, the only feature of his that Becca has.

 

Bucky last saw his dad on his own thirty-fourth birthday. While their family has grown closer again, George still lives in his familial home in North Carolina.

 

“I’m fine, Dad,” Bucky says earnestly.

 

“How are the piano lessons?”

 

Bucky grows silent for a moment, remembering the words he threw back at his parents at Becca’s engagement party four years ago.

 

_I’m not going to be some lame-ass piano teacher. You guys just want me to have a boring life._

 

He does have a boring life, though, now. Bucky teaches piano to veterans at the VA and gives occasional lessons to some kids. He lives with his best friend in an apartment in the middle of DC. He has no boyfriend, but he spends most of his time with his friends. He volunteers at the local LGBT center.

 

No more partying, no more drugs, no more drinking. Only the occasional hook-up, which is slightly part of the reason that Bucky is at the gala.

 

“Good,” he surmises finally.

 

“That’s wonderful.” His father turns around before recoiling, facing Bucky urgently. “Oh, goddamnit. It’s that Everhart woman from Vanity Fair; she won’t stop dogging me for an interview. She’s coming this way. I’ll see you for Christmas, Jamie-boy.” He wraps Bucky in a quick hug; Bucky breathes in his father’s smoky cologne and tries not to feel like a little boy before his father is off into the crowd.

 

Bucky stands there silently before ducking back into the crowd but in the opposite direction as his father. He dodges several journalists, waving to a few that he does know and like, and catches back up with Peggy and Daisy.

 

All the while, he never spots his mother and assumes that she is stuck in some conversation with foreign delegates or something, which means that Bucky is unlikely to find his mother anytime tonight.

 

Then he catches a glimpse of sunshine-blond hair, and the world stills for a moment when Bucky finally lays his eyes on Steve after what seems to be a month.

 

Steve is undeniably attractive tonight in a classic tux and bowtie. His hair has done the thing where it darkens a few shades in the winter and is slicked-back in an archaic fashion that only serves to make Steve seem hotter to Bucky, and he has a five o'clock of scruff growing on his square jaw.

 

Bucky feels a curl of desire growing in the pit of his stomach, but he has enough self-control to not pop a boner in the middle of a gala with several hundred American politicians and journalists.

 

Besides Steve is Pietro in a similar suit, his hair parted neatly. He too appears incredibly attractive, but Bucky still hates him, because, while Steve and Pietro are a few inches apart, Pietro’s hand is at Steve’s lower back, a few respectable inches above his ass.

 

Bucky turns to disappear into the crowd, but he somehow catches Steve’s eye who gapes at him for a moment, his expression one of utmost surprise, before making his way to Bucky, and, to Bucky’s extreme happiness, leaving Pietro behind.

 

“Buck?” Steve says with confusion. “Why are you here?”

 

Bucky knows that he has not imagined Steve’s eyes, darkened with lust, briefly flickering over his body, and his lips curve into a triumphant smirk.

 

Bucky has cleaned up the best that he could for the gala. The suit he is wearing is black with purple accents and is paired with a purple-almost-black tie and clings to Bucky closely. He too has forgone shaving for a bit of scruff, and his hair is slicked back in a style that Steve has always verbally approved.

 

“Because I wanted to come.” Bucky shrugs nonchalantly, watching Steve swallow audibly.

 

“But…” Steve stutters, searching for his words carefully. He settles for gaping at Bucky.

 

Good.

 

Bucky’s smirk widens at the knowledge that he has rendered Steve speechless.

 

“You never come,” Steve manages to state suddenly.

 

Taken aback, Bucky frowns, because that is not what he expected Steve to say. Not all. “Correction,” he says, matter-of-factly, “we never come. You came this year, so I decided to come.” When Steve’s eyes widen in realization, and he opens his mouth to speak, Bucky continues on, “I saw the list.” Bucky sighs. “I don’t care that you came, Stevie. You could have just told me that you were bringing Pietro.”

 

“I didn’t want to place in any kind of situation where you would feel uncomfortable,” Steve tells him honestly.

 

“Stevie,” Bucky begins. “I know I had problems, but it’s been four years. I am clean, I am happy, and I am healthy. Nothing that schmoozing politicians and their scheming wives could do will drive me back to the miserable person I was. I have everything I want in life.”

 

 _Except you_ , Bucky adds silently.

 

Steve sighs. “I know, Bucky. You don’t need to tell me. I trust you; I have always trusted you. It’s just...what are you even doing here?”

 

Bucky snorts in reply. “Honestly, I thought I’d find someone to hook-up with.”

 

If he didn’t know Steve any better, his best friend’s miniscule expression changes would go unnoticed, but Bucky can pinpoint Steve’s jaw shifting and his smile tightening.

 

Behind Steve, Bucky sees Pietro beginning to make his way through the crowd and towards the two of them.

 

“See you later, Stevie.” Bucky pats Steve on the shoulder and disappears just as Pietro arrives beside Steve.

 

As the waiters carrying food and drink trays begin to emerge into the East Room, Bucky sidesteps a tray of champagne that passes by his face and instead plucks some kind of puffed pastry from another waiter’s tray and bites into it, surprised to find that it’s savory and not sweet. After he polishes the pastry off, he eyes Michael and Becca on the other side of the room where they are surrounded by the Secretary of State and some other members of his mother’s Cabinet and thinks about joining his sister and brother-in-law.

 

“James?”

 

Bucky halts in his tracks from where he was striding towards Becca and whirls around so quickly that he’s surprised he doesn’t slip or slide on the floor.

 

After four years, there he is.

 

“Brock?” Bucky asks in bewilderment.

 

Senator Brock Rumlow of Ohio look almost exactly the same as he did in 2012, black hair now tinged with a bit of grey, dark eyes, a scruffy beard, and angular features. By his side is a man Bucky briefly recognizes as the brother of Senator Christian Ward of New York.

 

“What are you even doing here?” Bucky knows that his mother made it impossible for Brock to be invited to any White House-related event for years to come.

 

“Oh.” Brock blushes, glancing to the other man. “I came with Grant, here. I’m his plus-one.”

 

Grant Ward is attractive enough, with thick dark hair, brown eyes, and tan skin, and there is a slight smile tugging at his lips, but he remains silent otherwise.

 

“Uh huh…” Bucky drawls, body still rooted in a fight-or-flight panic. “And your wife is okay with that?”

 

Now, Grant stiffens. In a silky voice, he says, “I’ll go get us drinks, Brock.” He presses a quick kiss to Brock’s stubbled cheek and leaves, Bucky watching the procession of events with slight curiosity.

 

The look that Brock gives Grant, awestruck and adoring but lustful, is the same look that Brock used to give Bucky.

 

“Um,” Brock hesitates, wariness quite evident in his eyes. He is slow to respond, but, after a few moments, he finally says, “My wife divorced me. She took the kids after I came out. I moved in with Grant.”

 

Slightly stunned, Bucky nods slowly, his body relaxing a bit. “And your party? How did they take it when you came out?”

 

Brock blinks, taken aback by Bucky’s line of questioning. “There was a lot of discussion, but, in the end, I wasn’t asked to step down.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

As the atmosphere around them begins to become a little awkward, Brock blurts out, “You look good.” Bucky can only stare with an owlish gaze, and Brock continues, “Healthy, I mean. How are you?”

 

“I’m fine. Happy. I’ve been clean for over three and a half years,” Bucky tells him calmly, eyes flickering over Brock to watch for a reaction.

 

Brock smiles slightly. “For what it counts,” he says, “I'm proud of you.” After a pause, he adds, “I did love you, you know. I'm sorry that we ended the way that we did.”

 

Bucky takes a deep breath and stills his mind. “I know, Brock, I know.”

 

“Okay.” Brock nods again. He sneaks a glance around. “Grant is over there getting drinks.” He points in a general direction. “I think that I'll go join him.” He offers Bucky an apologetic but weak smile. “Maybe we'll meet again later?”

 

Bucky gives Brock an earnest and hesitant grin. “Maybe we will.”

 

Immediately once Brock leaves, Bucky’s heart begins to pitter-patter in his chest, beating a hundred miles a minute. His breath catches in his lungs, and the room begins to close in around him. Mindlessly, he shoves his way to the balcony, almost pitching off of it and into the rose gardens below. He balances himself by wrapping his hands around the iron railing of the balcony, gripping it tightly until his knuckles turn white. He becomes to hyperventilate, breathing in quick gasps of air, panting as his surroundings blur.

 

Suddenly, there is Steve, a warm, solid presence besides Bucky. Steve’s hand is unyielding and real against Bucky’s lower back as Steve crowds in besides him.

 

“Bucky, Buck. You’re having a panic attack,” Steve tells him with a low and soothing voice. “I need you to breathe in slowly with me. Like this.” He breathes in and out in controlled movements.

 

Steve repeats the pattern, and Bucky manages to regulate his breathing alongside Steve.

 

“And, again,” Steve says. “Slowly, Bucky.” Steve murmurs to Bucky as the brunet brings his breathing under his control and becomes aware of his surroundings.

 

“Stevie?” Bucky asks hoarsely, voice gravelly from misuse.

 

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve replies gently. “Are you okay?”

 

Bucky manages to nod. “Yeah, I’m fine now.”

 

Steve seems to hesitate before speaking again. “Buck,” he begins, “I saw you speaking to Rumlow.”

 

Bucky sighs definitively. “Yes, Steve, I was speaking to Brock.”

 

“Was he the reason you had a panic attack? What did he say?” Now, Steve is rising to his feet, hands curled into fists, his blue eyes flashing indignantly. He’s posed on the balls of his feet, prepared to storm back into the East Room and punch Brock on a moment’s notice if Bucky says something.

 

“Steve,” Bucky calls, grabbing for Steve who subconsciously shrugs him off. “Steve, Steve, Steve.” When Steve blearily turns his head to face him, Bucky grabs his arm and tugs Steve until they are face-to-face. “Hey, Stevie. It’s fine; Brock never said anything.”

 

“Really?” Steve raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “So, you want me to believe that your encounter went all sunshine and rainbows?”

 

“No.” Bucky groans in defeat. “No, no way. It was so fucking awkward,” he admits, “but, Stevie, you gotta understand, what happened four years ago, that wasn’t Brock’s fault. Not really. We were both in difficult situations.”

 

“He could have stood by you,” Steve insists, snarling with anger, “you could have faced the wolves together.”

 

“He was scared, Steve!” Bucky exclaims, grateful that he’s far enough away from the rest of the crowd in the gala that no journalist will be able to eavesdrop. “He was a gay politician from a conservative party and family, trapped in a marriage with kids and a woman he did love when they married. He was having an affair with the drug-addicted, party boy son of the Secretary of State. Do you know what this could have done if people found out? It could have ruined his career; it could have ruined him.”

 

“Are you defending him?” Steve cries, tone incredulous. “After everything he did to you?”

“No,” Bucky hisses angrily, leaning forward until his nose is almost touching Steve’s. In any other moment, he would have found their situation a hell of a turn-on, but, currently, he cannot think past the rage and other emotions boiling up inside him. “I am not fucking defending fucking Brock Rumlow! You may have been the one to find me in the garage, and you may have been there for every fucking moment after that, but you weren’t there to hear everything he told me! You don’t know how I felt!”

 

“Bucky,” Steve attempts to say, but Bucky cuts him off.

 

“No, Steve. No.” He glares at his best friend, stormy eyes unreadable. “Do you know what?!” Bucky cries. “None of that matters. It doesn’t fucking matter how I felt then. I saw him today.” Bucky quiets down a little, voice small and soft. “I saw Brock fucking Rumlow today, Stevie, and I felt nothing.” His voice cracks, heavy with emotion; his blue-grey eyes widening and glazing over with unshed tears.

 

Steve frowns but says nothing, sensing that Bucky is not yet done.

 

“I felt nothing for him,” Bucky repeats monotonically. “Four years later, four years since what I had felt was the end of my life. I was ready to end everything then, Steve, because of him. But I saw him today, and, you know what I realized, Stevie? I don’t love him anymore.” He laughs softly with relief. “I don’t love him anymore.” A few tears slip free and travel down Bucky’s face; he doesn’t bother wiping them off. Instead, he is turning his face up towards the sky the same way farmers do when they receive rain after a long season of drought.

 

“Oh, Bucky.” Steve sighs. With calloused but gentle palms, he clutches Bucky’s chin with his hands in a tender grip and uses his thumbs to wipe away Bucky’s remaining tears. “I was in the army, Bucky. Since childhood, I had been on my deathbed four or five times, but finding you in that garage, Bucky, was the scariest moment of my life. I may not have been there before, but I felt your body, limp and nearly lifeless, in my arms, and I wondered what happened. I was there, but I was gone from your life, and, when I found you, I could not see where the confident, playful boy I had met when I was six had gone. I had failed you, Buck, as a best friend.”

 

 _That’s not all you are to me_ , Bucky wants to yell for the world to hear, but, feeling too emotionally overwhelmed, he opts for something else. “That boy you met, Stevie, when you were six, that boy didn’t disappear. He was only buried under what the world asked of him.”

 

“You’re right,” Steve whispers roughly, “the boy was only hidden. I see him here besides me right now.”

 

“Stevie, I’m tired,” he tells his best friend.

 

“Me too, Buck. Me too.”

 

Swaying uneasily, Bucky presses into the solid heat of his best friend, mind relaxing as he melts into Steve’s muscled chest, the blond gently bringing his arms to wrap around Bucky in comfort.

 

Bucky may not have been able to say what he wishes, but Pietro, standing in the darkness and furtively witnessing the tender moment, understands.

XX

 

Bucky doesn’t clearly remember when he made it back home from the gala, Steve by his side the entire time. After being reassured many times that Bucky didn’t need anything and would be fine, Steve finally headed to Pietro’s since the Sokovian had texted Steve earlier that he was tired and had left the gala early.

 

Steve found it unusual, but Bucky just doesn’t care. He’s tired, so tired of all the bullshit in his life.

 

Bucky simply wants Steve to be happy, and if it’s Pietro, not Bucky, who does that, so be it.

 

The next morning, however, Bucky wanders into the kitchen in search of some coffee. It’s the day of the annual after-Christmas party that Natasha throws in her home, and Bucky needs to find a gag gift to give her.

 

Instead, he finds Pietro sitting at their dining table, drinking tea.

 

Immediately, Bucky rears back and attempts to retreat back to his bedroom but is stopped in his tracks when Pietro calls his name.

 

“James.”

 

Pietro is using his actual name rather than his nickname; he seems to have picked up on Bucky’s dislike of him.

 

Bucky turns around slowly to face the other man. “Where’s Steve?” he asks carefully.

 

“Steve went ahead to Natasha’s to prepare for the party,” Pietro answers, tracing a finger around the rim of his teacup.

 

“Oh, okay.” Unable to meet Pietro’s eyes, Bucky continues his trek to his bedroom.

 

“I know you don’t like me, James,” Pietro calls after him.

 

Though he really wants to turn over a new leaf and befriend Pietro, something about his statement makes Bucky bristle. He stops and marches back into the kitchen, steadily holding Pietro’s gaze. “Yeah?” he drawls sarcastically. “I don’t know why you would ever think that.”

 

Pietro continues as if Bucky never spoke. “I always wondered why, though; I was never sure if I had offended you. Yesterday, I finally understood why.”

Bucky stiffens, the air chilling around him slightly, hair on his bare arms prickling in response to the temperature difference. “What?”

 

“I saw you and Steve out on the balcony last night,” Pietro tells him very casually.

 

“Pietro…” Bucky begins before trailing off. He truly has nothing to say to the other man.

 

Pietro shakes his head. “I will not claim to know anything about you, but I know what it looks like when a man is in love, and I think I know Steve well-enough to say that he loves you more than he could likely ever love anyone else, myself included.”

 

“What are you saying?” Bucky asks, stunned.

 

“I don’t want to get in anyone’s way. I’m going to break up with Steve so that you can have each other.”

 

“Pietro,” Bucky breathes. “You don’t have to-”

 

“No, James, I do have to.” Pietro laughs sadly, rising to his feet and moving to place his mug in the sink. “Or we will all end up unhappy.” He slides his arms into both his coat sleeves and adjusts the collar. “Bucky.”

 

At the sound of his more personal name, Bucky fixes his attention at his feet.

 

“Tell Steve, please. Tell him that you love him tonight. What Steve and I have had is a drop in the ocean compared to what the both of you have shared.” With that final, dramatic statement, Pietro sweeps from the threshold of the apartment.

XX

 

Bucky spends the first half of Natasha’s party not-exactly-hiding with Daisy and Sam in one corner of the brownstone. Everyone else is in the sitting room, but Daisy and Sam have occupied themselves by playing a mean game of cards while Bucky watches.

 

He does not allow his gaze to wander over to Pietro who sits besides a chuckling Steve, ignores his heart swells at Steve’s adorable frown when Pietro doesn’t lean into his side.

 

Pietro’s behaviour is typical of someone before a break-up; Bucky recognizes that, having experience a few of these himself in the past when he was sober, but Steve’s only actual relationship before Pietro had been Peggy, and theirs had been a mutual agreement.

Bucky is unsure of how he is meant to react; he’s grateful for Pietro who, despite how Bucky has treated him, is willing to give up his own happiness for someone else’s. But, Bucky is also miserable for Steve who will experience his first rejection, even though it’s for his own sake.

 

So he remains there in the corner, detached from the rest of the party.

 

When, what seems hours later, Pietro finally stands, holds a hand out to a bewildered Steve, and leads him deep into the recesses of Natasha’s home.

 

Only ten minutes later, Pietro returns, smiling sadly. He grabs his coat and kisses Natasha on the cheek. “It was nice of you to invite me. Thank you.” He shakes everyone’s hands, though they stare in confusion.

 

As he passes by, Pietro pats Bucky on the back and walks out the door and their lives.

 

Slowly, after a few moments, Steve emerges, his face painted with several different emotions; Bucky finds it difficult to read just one. Steve’s gorgeous eyes are wandering across the room, having trouble focusing until they fix steadily on Bucky, and Steve’s expression dissolves, if possible, into something even more unreadable.

 

Steve heads straight towards Bucky.

 

Thinking on his feet, Bucky reacts immediately: he runs.

 

He barges through the door in minutes and hears Steve’s voice behind him.

 

“Bucky, Buck. Wait!”

 

Cursing his stupidity to not grab his jacket, Bucky shivers in the frigid air, his sweater providing thin protection from the elements. Still, he keeps moving, striding quickly down Natasha’s walkway.

 

“Bucky…”

 

Steve’s voice, so pleading and pained, tugs at the strings of Bucky’s hearts, but he shakes his head and tries his hardest to ignore his best friend.

 

“James Buchanan Barnes.”

 

The use of his full name finally stops Bucky in his tracks.

 

“What?” He whirls around, unable to meet Steve’s eyes. “What do you want?”

 

Steve stiffens at the severity of Bucky’s tone. “Pietro broke up with me,” he blurts out abruptly.

 

Bucky sighs, rolling his eyes in irritation. “I know,” he says, allowing his emotion to bleed into his voice. “It was so obvious.”

 

_And he told me he would._

 

“He told me to ask you why.” Steve glares at Bucky accusingly. “I know you never liked him, and I never thought you would actually act on your dislike. But, now I ask you, why did Pietro break up with me?”

 

In one of the rarest moments of Bucky’s life, he is fucking angry at his best friend for being so fucking oblivious.

 

Steve is so clueless right now that it’s not even funny; Bucky is sure that Pietro explained quite well why he has breaking up with Steve, but clearly, it hasn’t gotten through to Steve’s thick head.

 

“Why?” Steve repeats with a steely tone.

 

“Because,” Bucky growls. “Because I fucking love you, punk!”

 

“Jerk,” Steve responds automatically before his brain catches up and he realizes what Bucky said. “Wait, what?”

 

Insides quivering, Bucky says slowly, “I am in love with you, you fucking idiot. I love you. Do you want me to say it even more slowly? It’s not going to change the fact, no matter how I say it.”

 

Steve is still staring at him, bewildered and visibly confused.

 

Bucky sighs again. “Fuck this.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Push me away if you don’t want this.”

 

He crosses Natasha’s lawn in quick steps and grabs Steve’s face gently with his hands and does something he’s wanted to do since October; he kisses Steve solidly on the mouth before releasing him.

 

When Bucky steps back, Steve is still gaping at him.

 

_Oh._

 

“Um,” Bucky says awkwardly, trying not to feel crushed. “I guess I shouldn’t have done that.” He steps back again, determined to not make Steve any more uncomfortable. “I understand if you want me to, um, move out. I still got some of my stuff at my mom’s; I can grab the rest of  it later.”

 

Steve startles like he’s been knocked of a reverie and into reality. “What? Bucky, no!” Visibly panicking when Bucky begins to retreat, he reaches out and latches onto Bucky’s sweater, tugging him into Steve’s arms. Slowly, he crooks his head and leans down slightly to capture Bucky’s lips again.

 

Their kiss is sweet and soft and drawn-out, and, when Steve finally gasps for air, Bucky can only gaze up at him with glazed eyes.

 

In between short kisses, Steve declares, “I love you, too.”

 

“Then why did you take so long to respond?” Bucky whispers back, warm and dizzy from being wrapped in Steve’s embrace.

 

“Because I couldn’t believe what you were telling me,” Steve says quietly. He nuzzles his nose against Bucky’s. “I’ve loved you since I was thirteen.”

 

Bucky feels like the world has been yanked out from below his feet; he pulls back slightly, still staying in Steve’s arms. “Wait, what? Since when?”

 

“Remember the summer you returned after your first stint at boarding school. Your parents sent you, because they didn’t feel that you would be comfortable at our old private school after you came out in the summer before. You were so happy to see me that you begged your Secret Service agent to take us to Brooklyn.”

 

“We spent the day at Coney Island.” Bucky laughs amusedly, remembering the day with fondness.

 

“Well, it was right after we rode the Cyclone and you helped me.” Steve is blushing adorably.

 

“You realized you loved me when you were puking!” Bucky says while chuckling.

 

“No,” Steve insists, groaning. “It was afterwards.”

 

“You’re so romantic,” Bucky drawls cockily.

 

“And you’re such a little shit.” Steve tightens his grip on Bucky. “Wait,” he says in concern. “You’re shivering.”

 

Bucky is, huddling closer to Steve for warmth. “You’re perceptive, my dear Watson,” he jokes. “Now, don’t put your jacket around me; we aren’t in a chick flick.”

 

Steve flicks Bucky on his nose. “Asshole.”

 

“You know you love me.” Bucky preens.

 

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “I do.”

 

When they finally trek back inside, holding hands and with kiss-stung lips and wayward hair, someone exclaims, “Finally,” and the rest of their friends break into raucous cheers and applause.

XX

 

**Wedding Bells In The Air For The Rogers-Barnes Duo?**

 

January 6, 2018

 

Christine Everhart, Vanity Fair

 

_Is the White House preparing for another wedding?_

 

_Yesterday, America’s favorite political sweethearts Steve Rogers and James Barnes stepped out on their way to celebrate Christmas in the White House with President Winifred Barnes and family. Both men were sporting similar silver bands on their ring fingers._

 

_The American public were first made aware of the couple when they shared a kiss on a public date in Brooklyn last January, but a close source to the lovebirds stated that Rogers and Barnes had in fact been dating since Christmas._

 

_Barnes and Rogers, who had in fact been friends for about twenty-seven years before dating, met when the Barnes family moved to Brooklyn after the second term of George Barnes as governor of North Carolina. Living reportedly next door to the Rogers family, Barnes quickly bonded with Rogers, as did their families._

 

_The Barnes family has been notable in American media for the last twenty years, but the Rogers family is a bit more obscure._

 

_Steve Rogers’s family has been quite momentary in American history. Rogers’s grandfather Steve Rogers I was the legendary Captain America, leading Allied troops to victory during World War II. His father was Captain Joseph Rogers who later became the Secretary of Defense for both of President George Barnes’s terms._

 

_As many previous members of presidential families have said, not everything is as glorious as it seems in the White House, and that has proven true for Barnes._

 

_James Buchanan Barnes, 36, was 12 when his family moved into the White House. At age 14, he was forcibly outed when a high school acquaintance leaked to the press about a hook-up they shared in a party only days previous. Unable to handle the pressure of being a First Child and facing vitriol from the public, Barnes, known as Bucky to friends, became addicted to drugs, notably cocaine, by age 18. After attending Georgetown for a year, Barnes dropped out and infamously spent most of his twenties partying and sleeping around, sobering briefly for his mother’s first presidential campaign. After news broke of his attempted suicide at 29 and his accidental overdose at 30, Barnes went back to rehab and has been successfully sober for six years._

 

_Rogers, 35, has had a happier life. Though orphaned by age 18, Rogers also spent three years in the army. In 2004, after fulfilling his education at Georgetown, he created SHIELD, a security agency, with fellow veteran Peggy Carter and Tony Stark, heir of Stark Industries. He came out as bisexual in 2007 and dated Carter from 2008 to 2013. They were briefly engaged before breaking it off._

 

_With all the chaos in their lives and in DC, we here at Vanity Fair wish Steve Rogers and James Barnes all the best for their potential nuptials!_

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @princess-of-the-worlds.


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